


Of Names and Numbers

by b4dw0lfgirl



Category: The Umbrella Academy (Comics), The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Gen, Luther's nice in this sorry I don't make the rules, Pre-Season/Series 01, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Trans Male Character, Transgender Diego Hargreeves, but only a little it barely counts, i love my kids, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 11:51:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19084450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b4dw0lfgirl/pseuds/b4dw0lfgirl
Summary: The Hargreeves siblings all have a complicated relationship with numbers, names, and codenames.





	Of Names and Numbers

I. Numbers

 

Contrary to popular belief, Sir Reginald Hargreeves did not rank his children according to how useful or powerful they are. He numbered them solely on the order that he acquired them. 

When he adopted the first child, he referred to it as simply that: “the child.” His mother was just a child, barely eighteen. She had given birth to twins and insisted that she could care for one of them, just not two. She gave Reginald the younger of the two in exchange for a sum of money, a promise of a good home, and his phone number ”in case you change your mind”. 

Not long after, he adopted the second child. He started calling them “the boy” and “the girl” in order to avoid confusion. 

The third and fourth children were adopted in rapid succession, only days apart. Reginald briefly considered calling the children by their countries of origin (respectively England, Mexico, South Africa, and Germany) but this grew tiresome quickly. He also considered naming them Boy One, Girl One, Girl Two, and Boy Two, but the sexes of the infants were difficult to tell apart at such a young age and there was an easier solution. So Reginald Hargreeves named the children Number One, Number Two, Number Three, and Number Four.

Number Five proved to Reginald just how right he could be. Number One’s biological mother called Reginald’s direct office line in tears. She bawled about not being able to care for even one child. Reginald reassured her that he would still be willing to adopt the other twin. He once again went to collect a child from the woman at her home. She asked about Number One, and Reginald assured her that he was being well taken care of. When she asked about his name and to see pictures and other personal details, Reginald promptly left with baby Number Five. 

Number Six came next. His mother was quick to give him up as soon as Reginald got in contact with her. He briefly wondered if any of the children had biological fathers, but quickly dismissed the thought as unimportant. The children were what was special, not the parents, he was sure of it. 

Number Seven was by far the hardest child to acquire. Her mother seemed to have already bonded with the infant, but could not afford to raise her. It took much convincing and a not inconsiderable sum of money (to the mother, at least; to the billionaire it was nothing) to persuade the mother to let him have the child. 

Reginald Hargreeves had actually never considered ranking his children. It seemed futile when their powers were substantially different and ever-growing. One cannot compare different and constantly changing variables to each other. 

One night, Reginald was working in his office when he heard the distinct whines of Number One and Number Two. They seemed to be arguing over some unimportant matter that Reginald quickly forgot. He was about to call for Grace to come to collect them when Reginald heard something interesting. 

“Obviously, it’s me! Dad made me Number One after all! You’re just stupid Two, second best at everything!” Reginald then heard Number Two go completely silent. Not that she was usually loud, but all her arguing and stomping of feet suddenly ceased. 

Reginald noticed their competitiveness and smiled. He did not correct their dissonant assumptions of what their numbers meant. 

 

II. Aliases

 

After the Umbrella Academy revealed themselves to the world in their bank heist extravaganza, the adolescent superheroes were heavily discussed in the press. Their names made the headlines of every news story and were on the front page of newspapers more times than seemed possible. The only issue was that the press didn’t know their names. Part of their appeal was the secret identities that amplified the intrigue and mystery behind them. So, in the media, the children went by the various codenames and aliases journalists gave them. (The real reason is that not all of them had names). 

Number One, Spaceboy, got his alias from the various interviews he did over the years. As Number One, he was the leader, the protector, and thus was skilled at changing the subject whenever the interview verged on dangerous territories, such as something his siblings were uncomfortable with, or some of the family secrets. 

Unfortunately, he was not the most tactile at this, and always ended up talking about the future of aircraft technology and what it means for the further exploration of space. People thought that this was adorable and that, combined with his looks, made Spaceboy the object of many adolescent girls’ affection. 

It was because of that nickname, no doubt, that people speculated that he was someday going to go to the moon or elsewhere in space. Reginald Hargreeves was fully aware of these rumors, while One was mostly unaware. Perhaps it was destiny, or perhaps it was because of this that One did end up living on the moon for several years. 

 

Number Two got his alias from one particularly memorable interview soon after they were made known to the public. It was a popular Swedish morning news show, and the Umbrella Academy were the special guests of the week. 

“And what are your special powers, sötnos?” the interviewer asked Number Two. 

Two took a deep breath, trying to remember what Grace had said. Picture the words in your mind. “I-I c-c-can throw things ac-acur-accurately.” The interviewer seemed to be waiting for more. “Um, and I can, um, h-hold my breath f-f-for a rea-really long time.” (Later, he was punished for stuttering so much on television). 

The interviewer laughed and said, “Looks like we got a real Kraken on our hands, no?” Two smiled, happy that the interviewer wasn’t mad at him for taking so long and stuttering so much. The name stuck. 

 

The Rumor got her name from her power. While the public didn’t know exactly what it was (“Just telling people what it is can make you lose your edge, Number Three. The secrets of your power must remain completely confidential.”), Three’s siblings giggled and said she was a big gossip. Three just rolled her eyes and gave a knowing smile, the look of someone who was in on a big secret. 

Whenever interviewers or reporters asked Three directly about her powers, she just responded, “hearsay and rumors often change what people think.” At first, most people figured she was making some kind of political statement, but after years of never deviating from that exact phrasing, some speculated that she had mind control, and could actually change what people think. They started calling her the Rumor based on that theory and it quickly caught on.

 

At first, Number Four was called the Psychic. It seemed the most logical, as he was the one with the most supernatural powers. But when addressed as this, Four rolled his eyes and said, “I’m not psychic. I can’t read minds or anything, I just communicate with the dead.”

“Like you do at a seance?” the interviewer asked, excited. He was quite superstitious and even ghost hunted during his spare weekends, not that that was something his viewers or the Hargreeves knew or cared about.

“I guess, yeah,” Four responded, shrugging. From that point on, he was known as the Séance (he insisted on the accented e). 

 

Number Five mysteriously disappeared in the height of the Umbrella Academy’s fame. The children did fewer interviews after that because reporters would always bring him up (as they grew older, he was known as the Boy, immortal in his youth) and they would either struggle at or exceed at hiding their emotions. Their father got mad when they expressed the pain they felt, and interviewers and the public got concerned and nasty when they didn’t. Articles with titles like “The Umbrella Academy Never Loved their Brother” and “Heartless Rumor Tells True Feeling About the Boy: Shocking!” came out. This made them look bad, which in turn made their father mad. After a while, they refused to talk about it, and interviewers stopped asking. The children buried their feelings about the Boy deep within their subconsciouses, just like they did with countless other memories. 

 

Similar to Three, no one really knew what Six’s power was. All they knew was that he almost always ended missions covered head to toe in blood, and tended to shiver whenever anyone asked him about it or his powers. Six didn’t like how his powers could only really be used to kill, because he hated killing. 

One particularly brave reporter pushed past crowds and Sir Hargreeves’s icy glare and up to Number Six. It was just after a mission and his schoolboy uniform had splatters of blood all over it.

“What do you think of missions?” she shouted over the roar of the crowd. 

“They’re horrible,” Six said, his voice sounding hollow. Though that particular interview was never published (thanks to Hargreeves money and intimidation), the news seemed to have spread about it through the press. Six was known as the Horror because of the intense horror and fear in his voice. The Horror never answered another question about missions or his powers after that, Reginald made sure of it. 

 

None of the interviewers or reporters knew that Number Seven even existed.

Years after the apocalypse, a lonely teenage boy was wandering the wreckage, finding his way back to the dead bodies of four of his six siblings (he had read that one of them died as a teenager, but he can only speculate about what happened to the other). He would go back and visit them every year on their birthday as the bodies slowly rotted away. It reminded him about why he had to go back and stop the apocalypse, for them. He stopped in his tracks when he saw something he had never noticed before, an undamaged, pure white violin. 

“Dolores, do you see that too?” He asked, not fully trusting his eyes. 

“Maybe it has something to do with the end of the world,” she mused. 

“I suppose we should find the owner of it, then.”

Dolores gave him a look as if to say “duh” and he cracked a smile. She always managed to make him do that. He was so lucky to have her. 

So the Boy pulled out a beaten-up notebook (the only one he had managed to find in this burning world) and wrote down: the White Violin next to complex calculations and theories on what went wrong. 

 

III. Names

 

Number Four was the first to bring up the subject of names to Sir Reginald Hargreeves. 

It was just after dinner and Reginald was heading back to his study as Grace ushered the children upstairs. 

“Dad?” Reginald felt a tug on his sleeve. He spun around, annoyed. Grace starting to slack on her job, maybe it was time for a newer model? Maybe this time he could make her have black hair-

“Dad, why don’t we have names?” Number Four pulled Reginald from his thoughts. 

“Because you’re special.” That was his go-to response whenever a child asked about their unusual upbringings. 

“But Seven is ordinary and she doesn’t have a name.” Reginald considered this. The boy did raise an interesting point. How could he use the “special” excuse if he wanted to keep her powers secret?

Reginald glanced up and saw the other six children hovering at the doorway, listening to the conversation. Grace was also there, watching with a tilted head. “Grace, get the children to their evening lessons, and make sure they are studying and not… conversing.”

Number Four joined his siblings as they filed out of the room, following Grace. The children naturally aligned themselves in order of their numbers, leaving Number Seven’s dark gaze the last to turn away. 

Reginald took the idea of names under consideration. When he consulted Pogo, Pogo reminded Reginald of how several psychological studies prove that positive reinforcements are the most effective learning method. 

“Tell the children that they may receive a name if I find their work and behavior beyond their usual standards of satisfactory.”

Pogo nodded, bowed slightly, and left. And if Reginald saw the twitch of Pogo’s lips into a smile, then he ignored it.

 

Number One was supposed to be a leader, that’s why he was appointed to be Number One, after all. (Reginald did not correct this reasoning, only encouraged it. He needed one of the children to lead the others, so why not Number One who had seemingly volunteered?) 

Number One was the last to receive his name, almost six months after Five disappeared. 

One’s five remaining siblings were ignoring their independent study and instead, sneaking out of the Academy to get donuts at their favorite local diner. They invited One, but he felt so left out, being the only one without a name (Five didn’t count, Five was gone, probably dead) because he hadn’t earned it. 

As soon as his siblings left, Number One approached his father’s office and knocked lightly on the door, knowing he likely didn’t want to be disturbed. 

After a few moments, the door opened, revealing a monocled Reginald Hargreeves in his usual evening suit in the doorway. 

“What is it, Number One?”

“I just wanted to inform you that Diego, Klaus, Vanya, Ben, and Allison are not doing their studies, but, instead, going to the donut shop on East Main Street.” One blurted it all out in one breath, afraid he would lose his nerve. 

“Noted,” Reginald responded, “Now go back to your studies.” He promptly closed the door.

The next morning, Grace pulled One to the side after breakfast. She shooed his siblings to go to their lessons and waited until they were all gone to speak. 

“Number One,” she said, “It’s time for you to get a name if you would like.” Grace began asking that after Five had refused his name. 

One nodded, not trusting himself to speak lest he burst into tears. 

“Your name is Luther Hargreeves. Luther is the name of leaders. It means “army people” as you are the army that is to protect the people from harm.”

Luther smiled and hugged his mother. 

He was bursting throughout the course of the entire day, so excited to tell his brothers and sisters about his name! Finally, they gathered together after curfew. They were all supposed to be sleeping, but they had made it a tradition of sorts to gather in Allison’s room (it was the biggest) every night, even if only for a few moments. 

More than once, they had all stilled as they heard the tell-tale clunking of Grace’s high heels against the stairs. They all held their breath as she passed Allison’s room and let it go in a collective sigh when Grace passed through the hallway. (They didn’t know that Grace always reaches the end of the hallway and then listens to her children talking and arguing among each other. They didn’t see the content smile that brushed her lips before she turned and went to her painting room to recharge. 

Before, the room had always seemed cramped and too small with all seven of them in there. But once Five disappeared, the room felt infinitely large, too empty to be filled except by a specific person. So One, Two, Three, Four, Six, and Seven all settled into the room, all with a name. 

“My name,” Luther started, once everyone was present, “is Luther.” He beamed and looked around to see everyone smiling before tackling him in a dogpile of a group hug.

“Can I ask what did it?” Vanya asked once they finally stopped hugging, “What specific thing convinced dad to let you have a name?”

And that’s when the guilt set in. “Uh, shit, guys I’m really sorry.”

They looked at him suspiciously. Diego raised an eyebrow and asked, “Why?”

“Well the other day you guys were supposed to be having your independent study, but you went to the diner and I said that I didn’t want to go. 

Well, the reason you got caught and in trouble is because I told Dad that that’s where you were.”

They all took a moment to process that, and Luther held his breath. Finally, Allison smiled and Ben rolled his eyes. Diego reached out and lightly punched Luther’s arm. Vanya’s face was inscrutable. 

“Come on, bro, you should have told us,” Klaus said teasingly, “We could have done something really bad for him to catch us doing so you could get even more credit.”

They laughed together and Luther felt truly happy for the first and last time in a long while. 

 

Number Two earned his name after a magazine interview with the Umbrella Academy. It was about two months after Five disappeared, and they were all still pretty shaken up about it. So it was a bit of a touchy subject, to say the least. 

The interview had started out normal. Sandra asked Two and Allison about their makeup routines and their favorite fashion trends of the season. Two refused to answer, letting Allison take the brunt of the girly questions. Sandra went on to ask about Luther’s workouts and seemed to mostly ignore Ben and Klaus, who didn’t seem to mind. They were having a whisper-argument about something trivial, Two was sure. But then Sandra expanded the conversation to all five of them. First, she asked about their favorite subjects, and they all answered like Reginald had made them practice, like they had done a hundred times before. 

The next topic was crushes, which surprised Two. He figured he probably shouldn’t be; they were teenagers now and their romantic lives would probably make big news. Klaus opened his mouth to say something, but Ben elbowed him in the ribs, which was good because Two’s death stare seemed to have gone unnoticed by Klaus. The last thing they needed was Klaus talking about some guy and his sexuality making the front page. Reginald wanted his children to be perfect, not queer. That was why Two was sitting there in an itchy skirt and long hair instead of shorts and a buzz cut like his brothers. 

After clearly getting nowhere on the romantic front, Sandra moved on. 

“And what happened to your brother?” Sandra asked, her voice dripping with false concern. All the children stilled and an air of sadness rose to the surface. None of them said a word. 

“You are all so quiet,” Sandra the interviewer said, venom leaking into her voice. “You know, criminals often fall silent when they are accused of a crime they committed.”

Two didn’t know what happened after that. He just heard the blood rush into his ears and he was yelling at Sandra and not stuttering one bit. 

The interview was cut short and getting home was a blur of anger for Two. Once back at the mansion, he ran to Grace. He was so, so angry, but he was also sad. Sad that he had to pretend to be a girl for those interviews. Sad that people, people like Sandra, could be such dicks. But mostly, he was sad that Five was gone and was probably never going to come back. 

Grace held him and whispered, “It’s going to be okay” and “shhh-shhh-hh” and “let it out, let it out, Number Two” over and over again into his ear until he believed that it was going to be alright. Once Two was calmed down in Grace’s arms, he sat on the floor of her painting-covered room and watched her cross-stitch. They sat like that for hours, Two only letting out the occasional sniffle. 

Two was lost in his own thoughts when Grace let out an “Aha! Done!”

“Whatd’ya make?” He asked, curious. 

“Something for you, if you want it.” He furrowed his brows. “Do you want a name?”

Two nodded solemnly. He hated his number. 

“Your name is,” she turned around the cross-stitched fabric. It was white with black stitching forming a mask and a pair of knives. Underneath there was a name: Diego. 

“Diego?” he asked, “That’s my name?”

Grace nodded, a smile wide on her face. Diego hugged her so tight that she would have had trouble breathing if that was something she needed to do. 

When he let go, she said, “It means supplanter, overthrower. I trust you know what I mean.” 

Diego nodded, he knew exactly what she meant and never forgot it. 

 

Number Three was the first to earn her name. After a mission where the other five children had been incapacitated in some way or another, Three used her powers to deescalate the situation all on her own, convincing the criminals to release everyone they had kidnapped and to turn themselves into the police with complete signed confessions. 

Grace picked out a beautiful, traditional South African name: Sithembile. She presented it to Sir Reginald, full of happiness and pride, only to have it dashed away. 

“It’s too difficult to pronounce,” he frowned. 

“I could teach you h-”

“No, that will not be necessary. Simply choose another name, a normal name.”

Grace nodded, tears brimming in her eyes, and left. But rather than letting the tears fall, she did more research on names. The second time around, Grace chose a name of European descent, correctly assuming that is what Sir Reginald meant by “normal.” This was a name that made Grace smile and feel the same warmth in her chest that she associated with her children, with Number Three. The same warmth and meaning that Sithembile had.

This time, Sir Reginald nodded when Grace presented the name. And thus, Allison Hargreeves was the first of Grace’s children to be named. 

It was after dinner one night when Grace stopped Three from running back upstairs. 

“I have something to tell you,” Grace said.

“Okay.”

“You’ve earned your name.”

“Really?” Three’s eyes were wide and shining like she was about to cry.

“Really,” Grace smiled. “Your new name is Allison. Allison means truth, and I want that to be a reminder to you to always be truthful with yourself and with others.” Allison nodded, not understanding, but was too overcome with joy to worry too much about it. 

 

Number Four got his name from staying in the Mausoleum for a week straight without audibly crying or screaming. The doors were only opened for Grace to provide Four meals three times per day. Almost all of them went untouched. 

When Dad used to put him in here before, Five would secretly join him when he was sure their father wasn’t paying attention. But now, Five was gone. He had run out and never come back and didn’t even have the decency to manifest himself as a ghost for Four to talk to. Vanya thought the fact that Four couldn’t see him meant that he wasn’t dead after all, but Four highly doubted it. Five was just being a dick as per usual, and not giving his family closure. 

Four doesn’t remember most of that week in the Mausoleum. Luckily, there were no cameras and he had part of his stash in his blazer pocket. At thirteen, Four had not gotten into heavy drugs yet. Booze and cigarettes had been enough to keep the ghosts at bay for the time being. 

Four pulled out his flask (thankfully mostly full) and took a long sip of vodka. Almost immediately, he felt the voices ebb away until he was (almost) in silence. He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, hoping the smoke would warm him from the inside out. Despite it being summer, Four could feel the freezing stone on his bare skin and through his thin uniform shorts, making him shiver in the darkness. 

It was the worst week of Four’s life (this didn’t change when he got older - even a week in the Vietnam war couldn’t compare). He spent his waking hours smoking (he had quickly depleted his alcohol supply) and trying to think loud thoughts so that he didn’t have to hear the ghosts. Sleep wasn’t any better since the whispers and ghosts infected even his dreams. The problem was that his brain couldn’t conjure up a hell worse than the one he was living, so his nightmares were exactly the same as his reality. 

Without clocks or the sun, time ceased to exist. It felt like years had gone by when Reginald finally opened the door and allowed sunlight into the Mausoleum. The light didn’t make the ghosts go away or even quiet, but it did make Four’s eyes burn and brain short circuit. He had forgotten what life outside his torture chamber was like, and had even started to doubt its existence. 

But Reginald opened the thick stone door and let Four out. He continued his work and training with the rest of his siblings and didn’t tell them about it. 

That afternoon, Grace called for Number Four. She was in the middle of making dinner (meatloaf with asparagus and green beans) but stopped when Four entered the kitchen. 

“Number Four, dear, how are you doing?” Grace leaned down a bit so that she was on eye level with him. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

“Darling,” Grace said kindly, pushing his hair out of his face, “We are all so proud of how you behaved this past week-”

Number Four let out an involuntary shudder, and Grace pulled him into a hug until he relaxed. “We are so proud of you that we thought it was high time you received a name!”

“Really?” Four asked, and Grace could see his eyes were red-rimmed and filled with tears. 

Grace nodded and smiled. “Your new name, if you want it, is Klaus.”

“Klaus?” he tested it out. 

Grace nodded. “It’s a version of Nicholas, meaning ‘victory of the people.’ I thought it would fit, considering how you always save people.” 

Grace didn’t say what she meant by that, how he saves people just be hearing them and listening to them after death, when no one else could (she didn’t know that he was already silencing them). 

Klaus, her son Klaus, smiled wide, hugged her hard, and ran off. 

That name in itself was a little victory for Grace. She thought of his name as a victory of hers and the children over Reginald Hargreeves, who refused to give his children names and happiness. The name put a genuine smile on Klaus’s face, and that was victory enough over Sir Reginald. 

 

Number Five did earn a name. He had been working on his spatial jumps for months, just as Sir Reginal requested. Five did so in the hopes that he could time travel. That was all he ever wanted since he had accidentally discovered this new power. 

They were at Griddy’s because that’s where they went. It was just around the corner and the donuts were cheap enough that if they all scrounge together they could afford one or two to split. (After Grace saw Two looking in the couch for spare change, she started taking a few coins from Reginald’s study and leaving them around the house deliberately. Their donut supply went up substantially after that.) Besides, Agnes, the plump brunette waitress would always throw in a few extra donuts when they ordered. 

On this particular night, they were out celebrating their birthday. It was the one equalizer they all had. Sure, they all may be different, have different powers or no powers at all, or even have different opinions on their parents; but they were all turning 12 on October 1, 2001. The shop was slow like it always was at night. Two truckers sat at the bar top, nursing coffees, and what looked like a young couple on a date in the corner. At another booth, there was a nuclear family: a mom, a dad, an older teenage son, and a young daughter. They were laughing at something the brooding teenager had said, and he was clearly working hard to not break out into a smile too. It seemed so simple and so vastly different than what Five was used to. 

Five surveyed their booth, much too small for the seven of them. One and Allison whispering to each other, caught in a world of their own. Four balancing spoons on his face while Two pounded the table encouragingly and Six- no, Ben, his name was Ben now - pretended to be exasperated but let out a groan of disappointment when the spoons fell from Four’s face to the table. And Vanya, who was staring at Five with her inscrutable eyes, observing him just as carefully as he was to everyone else. He decided, at that moment, that he preferred this to simple and normal. Sure, it was messy and difficult and almost always shitty, but it was his. His family that he would do absolutely anything for.

It was while these stupid, sentimental thoughts that he would never in a million years admit to having were swirling around in his head that it happened. Five didn’t notice anything at first. Then, he saw his siblings were all staring at him in something akin to shock. He started feeling uncomfortable in his skin, like he could hop right out of it. 

“What?” Five asked, taking a sip of his coffee to calm his nerves. His hand was shaking when he lifted the mug. 

“Bro, you just disappeared for like, five minutes,” Two said. Five looked at him in disbelief. 

“And then popped back into existence,” Allison agreed. 

“Shit.” was Number Five’s eloquent response. 

He told Reginald of the incident during his next individual training time. He purposely neglected to mention that this happened outside the grounds and just alluded to it happening during one of their (few) designated “fun” times. 

Sir Reginald took this information and conducted an investigation of sorts. He measured air disturbances and radio frequencies in the area that Five said it had happened in. He conducted a few tests on Five and interviewed all his children.

It wasn’t until the next week, during Five’s individual training that he was asked about it. Sir Reginald had investigative photos and a plethora of sibling testimony and charts and graphs. “What do you think happened, Number Five?”

“I think,” Five could feel himself buzzing with the anticipation of what he was about to say, “I think I time traveled.”  
Sir Reginald nodded and Five broke into a smile, knowing he was right (he had calculations of his own which indicated it, but this was confirmation). 

“Does that mean I can practice temporal jumps as part of my training now?”

Sir Reginald’s gaze hardened (not that it was ever soft, to begin with). “No, Number Five, not yet. It is simply too dangerous. You must practice your spatial jumps first.”

Five nodded and began doing just that. He practiced for eight months before he was absolutely certain he was ready. Then he threw in another two months for Reginald’s sake. All the while, Five was calculating endlessly complicated equations so that he knew what he was doing when the time came.

It was during one of their private lessons when Five brought it up. 

“Father, I wish to time travel.”

“No.”

“I’ve been practicing for ten months straight! I know I’m ready!”

“While that is an admirable achievement,” Reginald said it with disdain, as if Five was anything but admirable, “you are simply not ready.”

Five was so angry that he didn’t show up to any training lessons the following week, individual or with his siblings, even despite Reginald’s harsh punishments. Instead, he sat in Vanya’s room and ranted and ran more calculations and sometimes, just listened to her play.  
But after a week, Five cooled off and returned to his lessons. His anger at his father helped fuel him and he beat his long-standing record of 143.7 yards by quite a bit, getting to 200.4 yards. 

It was after the lesson when the Umbrella Academy dispersed for private studies that Grace asked to speak to Five.  
She was sitting in an uncomfortable-looking armchair by a sputtering fire, her cross-stitching half-finished on the table next to her. Five couldn’t tell what it was. 

“Number Five, you traveled farther than you ever have today, beating your record! We are all so proud of you!” Five didn’t mention that he beat that record months ago and just neglected to tell Reginald. 

“This means that you’ve earned a name-”

Five cut her off right there. “I don’t want a name, I want to time travel.”

She blinked at him in incomprehension, tilting her head to the side a bit. She always looked most robotic when she did things like that. “You don’t want…?”

“No offense to you or anything, but if I am to have a reward, I want it to be time travel, not something as childish and trivial as a name. I’m fine being Five.” With that, he turned on his heels and walked to his room, leaving Grace frowning in confusion. 

(Three months later he was gone, the only child Grace never got to name.)

 

Number Six was always more intellectual than his siblings (except maybe Five - but he was loud and brass in a way Six never was), so he earned his name when he finally beat the rest of the Umbrella Academy in an obstacle course. Sir Reginald would often set these up, usually once per week, and race the siblings against each other. It was a test of fitness, agility, and fighting ability: things that were not Six’s strong suit. Usually One or Two won, often due to their competitiveness, but sometimes Allison or Four or Five would pull ahead and beat the others. But never Six. 

This changed on a fateful, drizzly morning. Reginald had specially designed separate obstacle courses attuned to each child’s weakness, in order to improve them. One and Two were busy arguing and fighting in their section. Allison was working on a complex puzzle that she couldn't rumor her way out of. Four looked scared out of his wits, talking to someone who Six couldn't see, and Five looked like he was having some kind of argument with Reginald. 

Six looked at his weights he had to lift, slowly increasing in weight. He considered for a moment and caught Vanya’s eye from across the room. She seemed to know what he was thinking, and gave the smallest of smiles and winked at him. He shrugged his shoulders and unleashed his tentacles. Sir Reginald turned to look at him as he lifted all the weight simultaneously and with ease (aside from keeping a desperate reign on controlling his power). He completed his personal obstacle course before the rest of the Umbrella Academy. 

The sun had already set by the time Six was pulled aside by Grace. 

She smiled at him. ”I am so happy to announce that your name, Number Six, is Ben Hargreeves! Ben means blessed, and that's your name because everyone in this house is blessed to have you.” 

Grace hoped that it would make him feel a little more free from his destructive power, his curse.  
Ben hugged his mother tight, a smile wide on his face. Then he ran upstairs as quick as he could to tell Four and Two and Vanya. 

 

Number Seven didn’t understand what she did to get her name. Allison had just gotten her name and Seven was beyond jealous. She looked in the mirror and wondered who she would be without a number, without the worst ranking among her and her siblings. She wondered what her birth mother would have named her, and if she would have called her special. 

She mentioned this to Number Five once, late into the night. They were supposed to be sleeping but had snuck into the library instead. Five was reading a book on quantum physics, while Seven was reading a biography about Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. She always felt that she understood the music better if she understood the person who composed it. Five and Seven didn’t speak, simply comforted by the presence of the other. (Five would have been fine doing this on his own, but he knew Seven wanted the company, as she never liked breaking rules by herself). 

“Do you ever think about what your life would have been like if you were never adopted?”

Five looked up from his book and squinted at Seven across the room. “No.” And that would have been the end of that conversation if Five hadn’t’ve looked up and seen Seven chewing on her thumbnail. She was staring at her book, but her eyes were unfocused and Five could tell her mind was running a million miles a minute and couldn’t stop it. He thinks that that’s probably the reason they get along so well, they both can't seem to turn their brains off. Seven thinks about the worst possibilities and disasters, while Five is always trying to figure out a way to fix everything. 

“There’s no point wondering about what could have been when this is what’s happening now. Dwelling on possibilities can only disappoint you.”

“Easy for you to say, you can time travel.”

Five cracked a sadistic smile. ”If only the old man would let me.”

”Why don't you just do it without his permission. You hardly follow any of his rules.”

”This is different, dangerous...” he started his long-winded explanation, but Seven simply didn't understand. He supposed it was different, with her not having powers. She couldn’t understand the gravity and responsibility of such fragile things. 

The following afternoon, Seven was practicing Tchaikovsky on the violin while her siblings were training. She practiced the opening again and again but never seemed to get the tutti quite right. Her small watch alarm went off; time to take her medicine. But for just a moment, Seven ignored it and promised herself she would take once she got this right. 

She took a deep breath and played. She concentrated on the music and the vibrations she could feel in her bow and fingers. She felt the music in her whole body and for the first time in her life, she completed Tchaikovsky’s violin concerto flawlessly. When she put her violin down, she wiped her eyes, surprised to find that they were a bit wet. She took her medicine and rushed downstairs. 

Sir Reginald was training the Umbrella Academy, but Seven interrupted him (well, she waited until he was done speaking and then pulled him aside as Pogo observed her siblings doing whatever task Reginald had set for them). 

“What is it, Number Seven?”

“I finished Tchaikovsky’s violin concerto without messing up!”

“And why are you so excited about this?” Reginald asked. He wasn’t proud of her like Seven had been hoping. 

She looked down. “Because I’m ordinary. It’s the only thing I can do well.”

She glanced up and swore she saw a half-smile on Reginald’s face, but it could have been a trick of the light. He never smiled. 

“Leave us. The Umbrella Academy has training to do.” 

She ran to Grace’s room, looking for some source of comfort. Grace was sitting, staring at her paintings. When she was older, she would find this a bit creepy and sad, but for now, it was just how Mom was. 

“Mom!” Seven sniffed, trying to hide her tears. Maybe it worked because Grace didn’t mention it. 

“Seven, dear, how are you?” Grace smiled warmly. 

“I did Tchaikovsky’s violin concerto without any mistakes.”

“I’m so proud of you, dear! We all are!”At these words, Seven ran at her into a hug and took comfort in her mother’s arms. 

She didn’t know how long she was sitting there, holding back tears, when Pogo came up the steps. He greeted Seven and Grace and then whispered something Seven couldn’t hear into Grace’s ear. Grace cocked her head and a twinkle lit up in her eye. 

“Do you know how proud of you we are?” Grace asked once Pogo had descended the stairs. 

Seven shook her head. She had calmed down quite a bit after Grace comforted her. 

“We are so proud, that’s it time you got a name.” Vanya broke into a grin. She was worried that because she was ordinary, she wouldn’t get a name like her siblings, but she did!

“What is it?” she asked, excited. 

“Your name is Vanya Hargreeves. It means that God is gracious to you and that your real gift is not having powers at all.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mom!” She started bouncing on her toes in excitement and gave Grace a quick, but firm hug.

“But I don’t think I understand what you mean,” Vanya said, her smile fading a little as she mulled over what Grace had said. Vanya wished she did have powers, and Reginald was always making her feel worthless because she was ordinary. 

Grace got a sad look in her eyes. “One day, my dear, you will.”


End file.
